A murmur in the dark
by planet p
Summary: AU; Ben has a telephone call. Chapter 1: First posted as part of Unspoken. Chapter 2: A continuation. Possibly Ben/Catherine
1. Chapter 1

The television murmured into the dark. Ben watched on with hollowing eyes. Image and circumstance reflected in the blue of his unending gaze. The metallic clang of the telephone filled the hall, tipping out into the dimly lit room. Catherine, matching smock and coat, stood in the doorway. "Call for you, Benny," she informed the older man in a polite voice, softly spoken. Ben stood to take his call.

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**Disclaimer** I don't own _the Pretender_ or any of its characters.


	2. Chapter 2

He knew he was only imagining things; if souls were real and people could somehow glimpse them, he very much doubted that Catherine would ever allow him to see her. Goodness knew he'd loved her, but he'd made himself quite unpopular with her over the years they'd known each other, back in the day.

Still, it had good seeing Catherine's daughter again. He could remember the last time he'd seen her; she'd been a little girl. They'd even gone to the fair together. Albeit, he'd _kidnapped_ her, and taken her to the fair, but she'd never said that she didn't want to go or screamed and tried to run away. It had only been Catherine and her husband who'd kicked up a fuss. He'd really upset Cathy that day, he remembered. She'd always hated when he came to see her, and she especially hated it when he made it known that he'd come to see her. Apparently, that went for her little girl as well.

It hadn't been a lie, what he'd told Miss Parker; not really. It was all just… complicated. In truth, he didn't know who her father was, either. Cathy had never said, he'd never asked; he supposed he'd just thought it was that man Catherine had married. When Miss Parker said no, there was some doubt, then that'd just… struck him as plain odd. If Cathy hadn't been sticking around the guy so strongly because they'd had a kid together, then he didn't know why she had. He'd tried to convince her to come away with him too many times, and been told to go where the pepper didn't grow too many times in return, to _not_ think it odd.

Then again, Miss Parker had spoken of Catherine's plan to rescue children from the place her husband had worked at, so maybe that was why she'd stuck around; to get herself killed one day because… because she thought it was all just a big joke, or something.

He pushed the thought away. He was only being selfish, after all. Cathy had wanted to help those poor kids because she didn't think it was right of anyone to put kids through what those kids were being put through and, heck it!, she was in a position to do something – so she'd just decided to do just that, dangers aside. Maybe she'd been thinking on the time they'd spent as kids without a mother or a father, maybe she'd decided that she wouldn't see that happen to those kids; only, he thought, she hadn't counted on it happening to her own daughter.

She'd been young, and wrapped up in things she shouldn't have been, he supposed, she'd been trying to make the past alright by making the future okay for someone else, but she was only running away from the past instead of stopping and confronting it and moving on from there. He supposed that anything had been easier, even risking life and limb for some kids she hardly even knew – if she knew them at all – easier than facing up to the past, which had been… nothing at all that she'd _so_ wanted it to be.

Still, she might have slowed down, looked around her, and thought, How do I do this thing right? She might have thought of what would happen to the rest of them if anything ever went wrong, but she'd only been thinking of herself, and those other kids, he supposed. She'd probably thought, heck, she'd have all the time in the world to think about the rest of them after it was done, when those kids were free and happy and safe…

Seeing Miss Parker, seeing how like Catherine she looked, Ben had suddenly felt less than enthusiastic to explain his relationship with Cathy to the young woman, so he'd just told her what she'd be able to handle, what she'd understand, and hoped to goodness she'd blocked out all memory of him and with it, any unpleasant questions that might come of his admission.

He had no idea at all if Cathy had ever really cared for him, or loved him, but he knew that he'd loved her, so he'd done what he'd thought best for her, he hadn't given away anything that might upset her daughter, he'd just told her what he knew she's more than likely expected to hear even before she'd come looking for him.

It was all a big joke, he sometimes thought. Cathy hadn't cared for him at all, she hadn't cared for any of them, how could she, she'd never even cared for herself; then he just felt bad for thinking so. Even so, he doubted, he really, really doubted that Catherine's soul would want anything to do with him a second time around. No, he just hadn't met up to her standards the first time, and Cathy hadn't been a stupid girl, she'd not fall for that mistake again. Only once.

He supposed he had to be glad that they'd had that 'once,' then.

Maybe Miss Parker would come to see him again, maybe not. In truth, he supposed he'd rather it was maybe not. He'd only just started to move on himself, and Catherine's daughter, well, she only made things all muddy again, she only made things confusing.

He wasn't as young as he'd once been, he thought, and that was a whole load of confusion and anger and sadness he didn't need.

And he needed to stop _pretending_ to see Cathy, too, he supposed. He needed to stop pretending he'd been in love with her and still missed her, because, were that the case, then he'd have to concede that she hadn't loved him nearly as much as he'd loved her, and that he'd royally, royally stuffed things up. So, yes, he'd told Miss Parker what he had, but only because he'd never been a jot of good to Cathy in the old days; he'd only been a hindrance, it seemed. He'd never, ever been able to help her. And that, if he were to admit that he'd honestly, truly loved her, would just hurt.

He didn't want things to hurt anymore; he just wanted things to go on and keep going on the way they were, until it was time for the end. He was through with hurt; he'd had enough of it in his younger days and he'd been less than thrilled with it then, and he knew he'd still be less than thrilled with it now.

With a heavy sigh, he went back to the lounge room and the program he'd been watching before his phone call had come in, pulling him away for a couple of minutes.

In any case, he thought, he couldn't remember Catherine _ever_ addressing him by Benny. It was just ridiculous! He wondered, for a brief moment, then, if perhaps he was losing it, if perhaps he was finally getting old in the head.

If that was the case, he thought, maybe he'd just find some way to end himself, and then decided against it. It was too dramatic, too much like Cathy for his liking.

If he died, he died, he decided. If anyone noticed, he'd have a good laugh. Well, not because it was particularly funny, but because he doubted that anyone _would_ notice.

He sighed again and turned the volume on the television up a notch. It had just started raining outside and suddenly, he needed the distraction of the television. The rain always made him think of Cathy.

The rain, and that Goddamned lake he'd decided he'd wanted to live beside, he thought bitterly, and tried not to think of Cathy.


End file.
